Page 3 of What Remains

“This isn’t ajoke, man. We’re talking life and death here, we’re talking…” Flowers fumbled. “It’s damn serious is what I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “What happened? What got you guys booted out?”

Tossing back a mouthful of Red Bull the way another man might do a shot, Flowers swallowed then said, “I hear you’re a movie guy. You ever seenThe Wizard of Oz?”

“Sure.” He was puzzled. “Why?”

“What does that movie have in common with this place?”

“With Afghanistan?” He thought of that rich technicolor world, every hue so impossibly vivid. Afghanistan was, largely, a study in various shades of brown. “Nothing?”

“Wrong. Try again.”

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t the Yellow Brick Road.”

“Ah, but whatgrowsalong the Yellow Brick Road?”

“Grows?” Then he snapped his fingers. “Poppies.”

“Give the man a gold star.”

“You’re saying that the reason you were booted out of the Raiders is because of poppies?”

“In a way. See, about two years ago, we were given this little no-nothing of a mission to this little no-nothing village to burn the hell out of their poppy fields.”

“And something went wrong?”

“And something went wrong.”

“What?”

“Everything, man,” Flowers said. “Everything.”

3

Only a single RedBull remained by the time Flowers stopped talking. A silence, not uncomfortable, settled between them.

Turning over what Flowers had said, John thought there might not be that much distance between these men and himself as he’d imagined. Like him, they had chosen the only possible course of action in an impossible situation, one where there were no winners and morality struggled with loyalty.

And then Mac shows up and offers to get them reinstated if they’ll go on a couple missions, help him out.

Flowers broke the silence first. “All that talking’s made my throat kinda dry. Hand me that last can, if you don’t mind. Oh, and check my pack. There’s a thermos in the pouch. Brought that along for you.”

After handing Flowers his drink, John unscrewed the thermos, sniffed at the curls of steam unfurling, then said, “This smells real. Where you’d get this?”

“I got my ways. Drink up, Doc. Hope you take it black.”

“I do.” The coffee was as strong as its aroma implied and he swallowed back a mouthful with something close to a groan. “Man, that tastes good. Thanks.” He let a few moments slip by then asked, “And no one ever found out? Other than Mac?”

“Nobody. But he’s not holding it over our heads, if that’s what you’re thinking. Me, I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion he was more than okay with what we did.”

“Or thatwhatyou did fit very conveniently withhiswork. Isn’t it a little too convenient that Shahida just happened to be working with the same guy who helped cover your collective asses? Command didn’t think it odd that the whole squad left the Raiders right after?”

“Not really. We were asked, nicely, if we didn’t think it was a better idea all the way around if we slipped out the exit with no one really noticing. Look at it from their perspective, man. If the truth ever got out, the press would have a field day. We did the right thing.”

“As orchestrated by Mac.”

“I’ll grant you that. But, man, he kept our collective asses out of a court-martial.”

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